Deep within the underhive of Hive World Talon I, where ancient ferrocrete foundations disappeared beneath layers of rust, steam, and recycled shadow, a Tech-Priest named Vick stood in the middle of a plaza and observed a miracle that refused to explain itself.
The locals called the structure before him a Teleportation Hub.
That name was crude, imprecise, and annoyingly functional. Vick disliked it for that reason, yet he could not deny its accuracy. Every time a citizen entered or exited the underhive, the air above the plaza distorted with a brief pulse of light. A narrow rift opened, stable for less than two seconds, and a person stepped through as if distance had become an inconvenience rather than a law.
No chanting adepts. No visible Gellar-field harmonics. No warp-resonance alarms. No stink of ozone mixed with the copper tang that often accompanied unstable teleportariums.
Just a clean aperture, a controlled transfer, and a civilian walking away as though he had merely crossed a doorway.
It was obscene.
It was magnificent.
Vick had never witnessed a teleportation system so stable, so repeatable, and so publicly accessible.
Imperial teleportaria were rare, temperamental, and jealously guarded. They belonged to voidships, ancient fortresses, the Adeptus Astartes, the Mechanicus, or other institutions powerful enough to justify losing men to malfunction and calling the loss acceptable. They did not belong in underhive plazas where laborers, cybernetically augmented workers, supply crews, and children with oil-stained cheeks queued without ceremony.
Floating beside him was a heavily modified human skull: his Servo-Skull, once a loyal servant in life, now reduced to blessed function in undeath. Its optical lenses burned red as they scanned the hub, projecting fine auspex beams while internal cogitator wheels clicked and whirred. A tiny parchment-scroll dispenser built into the skull's underside spat out neat strips of vellum, each line marked with binary glyphs of recorded data.
After another round of observation, Vick retrieved the sheet and examined the latest energy fluctuations.
The only discernible conclusion was obvious enough to be insulting.
Immense but uneven energy surges manifested each time the hub activated, powerful enough to fry a lesser machine-spirit if not properly shielded.
Scientifically, this was useless. It confirmed only what his optics had already seen.
What intrigued Vick far more was not the readings, but the mechanism behind them. How did the device function? What powered it? Was it merely a terminal, or one component of a larger network hidden throughout the Talon System?
Was this hub a gift of the Omnissiah…
Or a corruption of His truth?
As expected, those questions remained unanswered.
To Vick, the Teleportation Hub was as enigmatic as the Black Orbs, the Automated Constructs, and the Voidships of the Talon System. No one in the hive would explain their inner workings to him. Not without authorization from higher command.
"Commence survey log," Vick transmitted through binary cant to his Servo-Skull.
The skull's internal mechanism clicked.
"Observation: Survey of the lower hive yields no identifiable research personnel or facilities. This raises a troubling question: who is responsible for these technological marvels? None of the three planets within the Talon System should possess the scientific capability for such advancements. At this stage, I cannot draw definitive conclusions. However, analysis of available data suggests a significant likelihood that an STC template, or fragments thereof, exists somewhere within the Talon System. I will endeavor to locate and secure these fragments for the glory of the Omnissiah."
As Vick dictated his report, countless underhive citizens passed by, casting wary glances at the robed figure standing before the hub.
To them, he was a being more machine than man.
Yet none could comprehend his words.
Even if they saw the Servo-Skull transcribing data, all they would recognize were endless strings of binary, meaningless to those unversed in the Cant Mechanicus.
"Commence encrypted log."
Unlike the previous report, the Servo-Skull did not print this one onto parchment. Instead, it activated an internal encrypted recording mechanism, sealing the words behind codes decipherable only by authorized Mechanicus personnel.
"Log: The Archmagos was correct to send me alongside the Inquisitors. I have discovered something… intriguing. A small fraction of the hive world's population has begun worshiping an entity they call the Angel of Creation. They revere the Black Orbs and the machines he creates, considering them sacred. Observation indicates that ninety-eight percent of the population embraces cybernetic augmentation, though this belief system remains in its early stages and has not yet spread on a large scale. I have attempted to question the Governor of the Talon System regarding this Angel and the origins of his technology. He refuses to answer. Hypothesis: lack of trust. Further investigation may become possible once a higher-ranking Magos arrives."
Vick was mid-sentence when he felt the faint displacement of air behind him.
A prickling electrostatic charge crawled across his cranial augmetics.
Without hesitation, the servo-assisted mechanisms in his neck whirred. His head rotated a full one hundred and eighty degrees.
Standing behind him was the very man who had authorized his investigation.
Qin Mo.
Governor of the Talon System.
His attire remained an anomaly among Imperial governors. No ostentatious silks. No jeweled chains. No gaudy finery meant to prove inherited importance. Instead, he wore sober robes threaded with faint circuitry, cut in a style that suggested an unsettling familiarity with Mechanicus design without truly belonging to the Machine Cult.
"What have you learned?" Qin Mo asked, his gaze fixed on the Teleportation Hub.
"Energy readings around the device are abnormally high," Vick answered truthfully. "Nothing else of note yet."
Qin Mo merely smiled and nodded.
Vick did not understand the reason for that expression.
Nor did he particularly care.
Emotion was a variable unworthy of excessive computation cycles.
"What is the operational principle behind this device?" Vick pressed.
"I authorized your investigation on the condition that all findings be submitted to me first, before being shared with the Inquisition," Qin Mo said, shaking his head. "You are here to survey, not to study."
When Inquisitor Rena had first arrived in the Talon System, her approach had been aggressive. Immediate threats. Demands. The familiar assumption that the Inquisition could impose obedience through fear alone.
It was Vick, constantly traveling between the Inquisitorial vessel and the Talon System's orbital station in his personal skimmer, who had worked to de-escalate tensions.
That, however, was only one reason he had been granted limited investigation rights.
The true reason was simpler.
Vick was one of Archmagos Belisarius Cawl's subordinates.
Qin Mo had a vested interest in promoting Dimensional Engine technology among humanity, reducing the Imperium's reliance on the Warp. If there was one individual within the Adeptus Mechanicus powerful, influential, and open-minded enough to recognize the value of such technology, it was Belisarius Cawl.
After all, Cawl had engineered the Primaris Space Marines and would, in the future, cooperate with the Aeldari Ynnari to resurrect Roboute Guilliman.
His methods bordered on heresy.
His results were undeniable.
Unlike more orthodox Tech-Priests, Cawl embraced progress, even when it defied the Imperium's dogmatic stagnation. He experimented with machine intelligences, modified STC blueprints, and openly questioned the inflexibility of the Machine Cult.
His philosophy was simple.
The Omnissiah's will was infinite, not chained to the limits of current human understanding.
To many in the Imperium, such thinking was dangerous.
To those like Vick, it was the only path forward.
While Cawl did not represent the entire Adeptus Mechanicus, he wielded significant influence within its hierarchy. That influence made him useful. More importantly, it made him a possible bridge.
"Have you considered the worst-case scenario?" Vick suddenly asked. "A high-ranking Inquisitor may soon arrive. One who answers to no one here. One who embodies the ruthless nature of the Ordo Hereticus and will bring war without hesitation. You must understand: the Inquisition is no one's puppet."
Qin Mo considered this in silence.
Vick had a point.
Someone like Rena, who was not even a fully ranked Inquisitor, could still be restrained by political maneuvering, conflicting interests, and the practical difficulty of forcing the Talon System to submit without breaking it.
But if a Lord Inquisitor decided to purge the system?
There would be no diplomacy.
No negotiation.
No appeal to efficiency or reason.
After careful consideration, Qin Mo finally shook his head.
"This system will not have its fate dictated by outsiders," he said. "At least, not yet. War will only come if you people insist on making an enemy of us."
"You people?" Vick analyzed the phrase.
For a moment, he suspected Qin Mo was already plotting rebellion.
The possibility was not impossible. His words implied separation. A distinction between Talon and the wider Imperium. Between humanity and the institutions claiming dominion over it.
But deeper analysis weakened that conclusion.
If Qin Mo had truly intended to rebel, he would have long since allied himself with the various heretical factions that had once plagued the Talon System. He possessed the power, technology, and local loyalty to do so. Instead, those factions had been crushed.
Vick reached a provisional conclusion.
This man was no traitor.
But to Qin Mo, there was clearly a distinction between the Imperium and humanity as a whole.
Vick processed this new data, recalling fragments of ancient history stored within guarded Mechanicus archives.
In some ways, the Talon System resembled the Interex before Imperial Compliance: a formidable, troublesome human civilization encountered during the Great Crusade.
Before the Imperium swallowed the galaxy, the Interex had been an isolated yet technologically advanced society. They resisted compliance not merely out of arrogance, but because they had no need for Imperial intervention. Like many non-Imperial human civilizations, they rejected the Imperium's religious dogma and rigid hierarchy, favoring a more meritocratic, even technocratic, order.
Their technological prowess allowed them to resist xenos threats and preserve a thriving independent human culture.
The Imperium had not tolerated that independence.
A brutal compliance campaign followed. Despite the Interex's ingenuity, they fell. Their technology was destroyed, seized, or absorbed into Mechanicus vaults. Their leaders were executed, enslaved, or erased from official memory.
Talon was far beneath the Interex in power.
But the modern Imperium was also far beneath the glory of its own past.
Vick came to a decision.
His mission parameters required adaptation.
If he wanted his investigation to continue, he would need to adjust his stance, even if only slightly.
But there was something else.
Something far more important than the mission Cawl had given him.
"This Angel of Creation your people worship," Vick said. "May I learn more about it?"
Qin Mo raised an eyebrow.
"I have no objections," he said. "But first, you must answer one question."
"What is it?" Vick asked.
Qin Mo's gaze locked onto him.
"On your Inquisition vessel, currently detained at the Mandeville Point, where does Rena spend most of her time?"
Vick hesitated.
For one flicker of a moment, his logic-engine debated between secrecy and compliance. The Inquisition expected discretion. Qin Mo expected honesty. The data set was incomplete, but the practical conclusion was clear.
Cooperation preserved access.
So Vick spoke, listing Rena's usual haunts aboard the vessel.
Qin Mo had never needed him to answer.
Through the Shapeshifter's Illusion Realm, Qin Mo already knew exactly what Rena was doing at that very moment.
But by answering, Vick had revealed his own leanings.
And Qin Mo?
He had grander plans in motion.
Removing Rena was a side task.
Vick and Cawl were far more valuable.
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